Tiberius the Tyrant

by John Charles Tarver

Of the personal influences to which Tiberius was submitted in his youth the one best known to us is that of Horace, who incidentally throws a light upon his character as a young man. In the year 21 B.C. Augustus made a progress to the East, visiting notable cities on the way, and regulating their affairs. The chief object of the tour was, however, to settle the Eastern frontier of the Empire. Syria was to Rome what the North-West Provinces of India are to England; Herod and Aretas of Arabia with the princes of Armenia played the part of the Ameer of Afghanistan; they were the buffer states between Roman civilization and the aggressive powers of Central Asia. Their fidelity was by no means beyond suspicion, and from the mountains of Armenia, all along the west of the Euphrates down to the borders of Egypt, continuous intriguing prevailed, every ambitious kinglet making use of one or the other of the great powers to strengthen his position against his rivals. The strongest of these chieftains were the rulers of Armenia and Herod the Idumæan; the former were unquestionably treacherous, and their proximity to the Parthians rendered them peculiarly liable to wavering; the latter played skilfully for his own hand. So long as Rome was strong, Herod was her obedient servant, but if Rome showed signs of weakness, Herod had no scruples against making friends with a stronger power in order to further his own ends.

Since Cæsar had conquered Pharnaces, the son of Mithridates, by his mere apparition, the prestige of Rome in the East had been considerably damaged. The expeditions of Antonius against the Parthians had been unsuccessful, and a serious catastrophe had only been averted by the valour of his lieutenant, Ventidius Bassus, a former mule-driver; by submitting Herod to the demands of Cleopatra’s cupidity, he had to some extent alienated the Idumæan, and encouraged him to distrust Roman politicians. Now that the Spanish war was over and the Western half of the Empire in good order, Augustus wisely determined to study his Eastern questions on the spot, and make such a demonstration of power as would determine the judgment of waverers in favour of Rome. The plan of operations was to send an army through Asia Minor into Armenia, and thence if necessary along the Tigris into Parthia, while the possible allies of the Parthians in Syria were to be overawed simultaneously by the presence of the Emperor. The command of the army destined for Armenia was given to Tiberius, now twenty-one years of age. Both operations were successful; there was not much fighting, but the Parthians saw that Rome was in earnest, and made terms, sending back the standards which had been taken from Crassus some thirty years before; the Roman party in Armenia was strengthened by a change of rulers, and Tiberius returned in triumph. His first essay in war and diplomacy was successful.

Tiberius had taken with him a staff of secretaries, or literary companions, with whom Horace was in correspondence, the chief of whom seems to have been Julius Florus, a Romanized Gaul. From the tone of Horace’s letters to these young men we learn much of the future Emperor. It would seem that Tiberius had formed the idea of surrounding himself with what Horace on one occasion humorously calls “a gang” of earnestly minded young men. Their characteristics may be inferred from the following letter:—

“I am very anxious to know, Julius Florus, the quarter of the world in which Claudius the stepson of Augustus is campaigning. Are you in Thrace, or on the Bosphorus, or the rich plains and hills of Asia? What works is the studious company a-building? I should like to know this too. Who is undertaking to write the history of Augustus? Who is going to give immortality to his wars and peaceful exploits? What is Titius writing, Titius whom all Romans will sing, who has not been afraid to tap the Pindaric sources, and has ventured to turn away from commonplace pools and streams? Is he well? Does he think of me? Does he labour with the aid of the Muse to fit the Theban metres to Latin strings, or does he rage and bluster in tragedy? Tell me what Celsus is doing? Warn him against plagiary, tell him to beware of the fate of the daw in borrowed plumes. And what are your own ventures? What are the thyme beds about which you lightly hover? You have no mean ability, you are polished, refined, and will win the first prize as an advocate in private or public suits, or as a poet of the lighter kind. But if you could give up the chilling pursuit of business, you would go where inspired wisdom would lead you. This is the work and interest which should be sped by us all, whether small or great, if we wish to live in peace with our country and ourselves. You must also tell me this when you write, mind you do, how are you getting on with Munatius? Does the badly patched fellowship join and split again to no purpose? And are your independent spirits galled either by hot-headedness or misunderstanding? Wherever you both may happen to be, you who should not break the bond of brotherhood, I shall be very glad indeed to see you back again.”

Here is another letter to Celsus, the young gentleman who made somewhat too free use of the poems in the Palatine Library:—

“I beg you, Muse, to convey my compliments to Celsus Albinovanus, the companion and secretary of Nero. If he asks what I am doing, tell him that though I threaten all kinds of fine things, I am neither living properly nor pleasantly; not because my vines have been smashed by the hail, or my olives parched with the heat, or my cattle sick on the outlying lands, but because, more ill at ease in mind than body, I refuse to hear or learn anything that is good for an invalid, am annoyed with my faithful physicians, furious with my friends, because they try to deliver me from my deadly laziness; I am bent on what is bad for me, I avoid what I know to be good for me; I am fickle enough to be in love with Tibur at Rome, with Rome at Tibur. After this ask him how he is, how he manages his business and himself, how he gets on with his young chief and the company. If he says ‘well,’ first congratulate him, and then don’t forget to whisper just this little bit of advice into his ear, ‘Our treatment of you, Celsus, will depend upon the way you treat your own good fortune.’”

Other letters to Bullatius, to Albius, to Municius, to Secius, to Lollius are much in the same strain. Though these young men were not demonstrably included in the inner circle of the friends of Tiberius, they belonged to the same social rank; in all there is the same playfulness, in all good advice is conveyed in tactful form. In Lollius Horace seems to have felt a special interest; he too was a companion to some notable person, probably Drusus. Horace gives Lollius many practical directions, somewhat in the style of Polonius, as to his behaviour to his patron, Lollius being of an independent spirit, and irascible. Horace is particularly fond of impressing upon his young friends the duty of “living for themselves,” of considering wealth, fame, and even public usefulness, as of less importance than a good conscience. The moral earnestness of Horace is often underrated, as the moral earnestness of R. L. Stevenson is underrated, and of many other writers whose teaching has not run in the grooves prescribed by the professional preachers of their day. Horace had no love for the worthy gentlemen who improved the occasion after dining with Augustus; the red eyes of Crispinus affected him as the red nose of Stiggins affected Dickens; he had equally little patience with those men who labelled themselves Stoic or Epicurean or Cyrenaic, and professed to live according to the authorized manuals of the sects; the pretentiousness of the professors of virtue and the proselytising Jews disgusted him, as similar manifestations are wont to disgust humorous men at all ages and in all places, but these men have had their revenge in the solemnity with which for nearly two thousand years they have deplored his levity. Few men, however, have lived more consistently with their professions than Horace, and the world would be none the worse if his example were less unfrequently followed. The friendship of Mæcenas, a genuine personal affection, and not a mere literary or convivial sympathy, gave Horace many opportunities of enriching himself, or at least of parading his power; it was something to be the friend of the second or third man in the Roman Empire. But Horace studiously resisted every temptation to make use of this friendship; he would not even allow himself to be made the recognised channel of introduction for his literary friends. The time came when Augustus wished to transfer him to his own household—the letter is still extant in which the offer was made, and the greater opportunities hinted at—but Horace would not hear of such an advancement. It speaks well for Augustus that he was not offended by the refusal. From Mæcenas Horace accepted a moderate independence, sufficient for his needs, but a small gift to come from one of the richest men of his day. He was grateful, but he refused to sell his soul, and we still have the letter in which he bids Mæcenas take back his bounty, if it is to involve obligations which the poet cannot meet without injury to his health, or undue disturbance of his comfort. He adds with characteristic humour and strict justice, “but if you take back the Sabine Farm, you must restore to me the youth and vigour I enjoyed when I first entered your service.”

Men who cannot distinguish an official ode written to order and the forms imposed by such conditions from the genuine effusions of a literary artist are fond of accusing Horace of excessive adulation, but there is no adulation in offering unpalatable advice, or in pointing out to a patron that he is exceeding his prerogative. Instances may be found in the Odes, as well as in the Epistles, of not altogether complimentary exhortation. The truth was that Augustus was surprisingly the right man in the right place, and the compliments paid to him by Horace and Virgil and other literary contemporaries, though expressed in a liberal style, were not in spirit other than the occasion demanded. Epitaphs and dedications have a language of their own—Italy is more given to hyperbolical compliment than England—but the men who declared their admiration of Augustus, however extravagantly to our ears, had sound reason for admiring and wishing others to admire a very capable man surrounded by capable advisers and seconded by able lieutenants.

It is not probable that the first book of the letters of Horace was published in the lifetime of the poet, for they are often too intimate for publication. Lollius would not be likely to give the world the benefit of his castigation, or Mæcenas to allow contemporaries to enjoy the protest against his thoughtless insistence on the poet’s company. The collection was most probably made after the death of the writer, and the dedicatory letter placed at the beginning may equally well have referred to some other publication. Horace is not the only facile writer of verse who has occasionally amused himself with writing to his friends in metre, and the sting of some things which he wished to say was to some extent dulled by the adoption of a metrical form. We may take it that in the first book of the Epistles, if nowhere else, we have the genuine Horace writing without respect of persons, and without regard to the public. A peculiar interest therefore attaches to the one short letter in the collection which is written to Tiberius himself; it is a letter of introduction.

“Septimius I presume has some special information as to the esteem in which you hold me, Claudius; for in begging and prayerfully compelling me to try to say a good word for him, and introduce him as worthy of the intellect and family of that sound reader Nero, in asserting that I enjoy the privileges of an intimate friend, he sees and knows my power better than I do myself. I certainly gave a good many reasons for being let off with an excuse, but I was afraid of being thought to have falsely pretended incompetence, and to be given to disguising my real influence, and reserving it for my own sole use. So, in dread of the disgrace of a greater obloquy, I have entered for the prize awarded to impudence. If, however, you do not disapprove of my breach of good manners, committed at the request of a friend, enroll him in your ‘gang,’ and believe him to be staunch and good.”